


All Those Sacred Touches

by vivial



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Steamy, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Zealot!Asriel/Explorer!Marisa, sinful heresy at the church
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-01-24 14:57:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivial/pseuds/vivial
Summary: AU where Asriel is a Magisterium zealot and Marisa is an explorer opposing them; flashes of two conflicting lovers.
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter
Comments: 37
Kudos: 104





	1. gifts

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the Discord's AU where everyone decided to create a behemoth called Asriel as a Magisterium member (as if the world isn't terrifying enough as it is lol).  
I just felt like writing this, I don't know, it seemed fun at the time.  
I tagged Mature, mostly because of language, so I'd rather be safe than sorry and tag it as T.  
I may write more on this, I don't know yet, but for now it shall remain an one-shot.
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: There is a small The Secret Commonwealth spoiler.

Marisa didn’t notice when the doors of the library opened; she was too busy taking notes from the dusty book in front of her, her monkey whispering the numbers as she wrote them down. Her first warning were his warm hands on her shoulders; he made sure to touch her over the fabric, but she immediately dropped her pen and let out a deep sigh. Her monkey looked up, eagerly, but he didn’t move. _ Don’t you dare _, Marisa thought to him, and his eyes narrowed in defiance, but he did not move.

“I am busy.” She announced, not very loudly. Her voice broke, but slightly; she knew he had noticed, but she would never acknowledge it.

Asriel leaned over her, while he carefully and very slowly, put her hair to the side; his bearded chin brushed against her neck and collarbone when he got closer to whisper in her ears.

“I’ve got a gift for you.” His voice was clear and coarse, and Marisa gripped at the wooden table when he bit her earlobe.

“Don’t do that, you know I hate it.” She hissed, but there was a layer of amusement in her voice.

He ignored her, that was no surprise to her, however, because that was what he often did; she found it difficult to understand why did she bother staying close to him, when he was so disrespectful. There was no answer to that question, as well as many other questions regarding Asriel that remained unanswered. One of them was his latent interest in her when she was the apex of what his opposite could be.

He slid his hands over her shoulders and showed the gift to her: it was a small, delicate necklace, made of gold. Marisa would have grinned of satisfaction if the pendant weren’t a cross, beautiful, decorated with small diamonds, but a cross nonetheless. She did not bother looking at him, instead taking his hands off her and picking her pen up again.

“Why do you do this?” He asked, restless; his voice was filled with indignation.

“You mock me through gifts, and wonder why I refuse you?” She put her pen down again and turned to face him; he towered over her, daylight lighting up his grey, dark clothes; everything about him was impeccably done, he looked as if he had come off one those propaganda pamphlets from the Magisterium. Marisa still mocked him for it, they had met while she was scoffing at his impeccable suit, his clean and immaculate appearance. Underneath it all lay a wild man aching for a freedom not even Marisa could fathom.

“Don’t be nasty.” He said and put his hand on her shoulder again; his daemon purred against his leg, as the monkey watched her languidly; he did not dare go to her.

Marisa slapped his hand off her shoulder and turned back to her notes; she felt his fingers against her scalp when he grabbed her hair and pulled her strongly, but not enough to harm her. She barely had time to gasp before he kissed her, bending over her, holding her chin firmly. He tasted of Tokay and smokeleaf, strong and pungent; he pulled away, but kept his grip on her hair. She tried not to breathe so heavily, although that was quite difficult.

“I freed my entire schedule for you, today.” He kissed her again; Marisa fought the urge to indulge him with a smile. Indulging him was quite dangerous, because that was exactly what he wanted and he was used to have what he wanted. “It would be a shame if it was for nothing.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have done it before consulting me first, then.” She smiled, her smug attitude making him hiss, showing his teeth at her as if he were a wild animal. His snow leopard growled too, but the monkey ignored her. “My research keeps me busy, you are aware of that, Asriel.”

“I didn’t know I had to consult you for things.” Asriel scoffed, his eyes glittering with amusement, but the way he crisped his lips showed Marisa she had touched his nerve again. It was a hobby of hers, to upset him, to make him feel less in control. She delighted in seeing his struggle not to frown and give her the pleasure of knowing she had won their argument.

“Oh, well, now you do.” She mocked, touching the tip of his nose with her index finger, as if he was a silly child.

He let her go, almost growling, and took the necklace she had left at the table.

“Why are you like this?” He said, and for once, she thought he sounded resentful. If she didn’t know him any better, she’d risk saying he was even hurt. _ As if he is capable of having feelings at all _, she thought, amused.

“Why do you insist in provoking me?” She nodded at the necklace in his hand; he sighed, and stretched his shoulders in a gesture of exhaustion. Marisa felt like their entire relationship was based off an argument; she wondered if the constant conflict between the two of them was what compelled them against each other.

There were moments where she felt like complying for once, to see if he’d stay; if she was soft and submissive, she wondered if he’d stay with her. _ Don’t be stupid_, she told herself, quietly and constantly, _ he works for them and you are but a distraction. _

“It was meant to be a pretty gift for you.” He murmured, and she stare into his eyes; Marisa struggled to contain her smirk; the way he put so much effort into deceiving her, as if he cared about her in any way.

“It’s a mockery of my stances and beliefs, and you know that very well.” Marisa turned around in her seat; she didn’t want to look at him when he smiled. Asriel knew her too well by now to know how to disable her wrath, and her wrath as her sole weapon against his conquering behaviour. “I’ll never wear that.”

“It wouldn’t harm you to be nice every once in a while. It’s a necklace, it’s not a bloody shame label.”

“It’s a Magisterium weapon of control!” Marisa began to feel hot as their voices rose a little; they were alone in the library, but it was bad form to yell. Her monkey touched her hand to incentive her to keep calm; Asriel rendered that gesture nearly useless, though, by simply standing nearby.

“It’s a holy token, Marisa.” He said and sighed, rubbing his eyes. “It offers you protection, a symbol of spirituality. God knows you could use some.”

She laughed, bitterly.

“It’s Magisterium related, Asriel. I won’t wear it.” She picked up her pen again, deciding to return to her notes and not to enable the discussion further. “I’ll never have anything related to them.”

He went silent, so she assumed she had won, until he leaned against her again, putting his hands around her, but on the table. His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered:

“Next time I’m fucking you, you say that to my face.”

She couldn’t help but grin, and he kissed her neck softly, sighing. They stood in silence for a while, Marisa staring at the bookshelf in front of her as he kissed her cheeks, her neck and collarbone thoroughly. She didn’t bother chastising her monkey, who was busy with Stelmaria on the floor, as she purred against him.

“I meant it as something nice.” He said, quietly. Despite many victories Marisa had ever had against him, there was no actual winning with that man.

“I know.” She whispered, so quietly she almost doubted he had heard her, but he had.

“You don’t have to fight me back every time we speak, Marisa.”

“Oh, but I do, Asriel. If I don’t fight back, you’ll consume me with your dogma.” Marisa gasped when he bit her neck, lightly; she dug her fingers in the table wood again. He let it go and kissed the spot where his teeth had been. “At least you won’t leave a mark for me to explain this time.”

“That can be arranged.” He laughed, but pulled away from her. She called her monkey back to his spot on the table, and he did it quickly, although unhappily. “Will you give me the time of day tonight or should I seek something else?”

“I might, if you let me finish my notes now.”

“When do you leave again?”

“In a month or two, it depends on the college. Fancy expeditions to the North aren’t exactly cheap, and our budget is fairly… short.” Marisa heard him sigh; he already knew where she was going with that conversation. “The law you’re helping approve isn’t exactly helpful to academics like me.”

“Marisa, you promised: no business talk.” Asriel mumbled, and put his hands on her shoulders again. “You made this rule yourself. It ends badly when we discuss this, and the law is meant for safety, yours as well as that of others.”

“It hinders knowledge! It’s gonna damage dozens of researches that are currently on development. You have no right to--”

“Marisa!”

“Fine, whatever, Asriel.” She scolded him, and shivered when he leaned again, his hands sliding through her arms. “It’s not like you care about anything other yourself.”

“The Magisterium exists to enforce order.”

“No, Asriel. They exist to control, you know that.” She felt a bitter taste in her mouth, and for a moment she did not know what to do with her hands. “You _ are _ them.”

“You promised we wouldn’t discuss business.” He said, his fingers digging through her hair; she felt awfully relaxed and closed her eyes, but her monkey tapped softly on her hands to bring her back to reality. If Asriel had it his way, Marisa would be stuck in some five star hotel all day, waiting for him to show whenever he wanted. He avoided Magisterium talk meticulously and at first she thought it was because he wanted to focus on them. Eventually, Marisa realised he avoided the subject because he was afraid of giving in and telling her things he shouldn’t.

“It’s hard not to talk about it when the Magisterium keeps on raiding colleges and whatever else pleases them.” She said, sarcastically. “I wonder how long it will take until St. Sophia gets raided themselves.”

“Those raids were not related to—”

“Don’t lie to me. It’s a bloody inquisition and you know it Asriel.”

“Huh, it’s funny. I look at you and I see that beautiful face of yours, but you open your mouth and all I hear is Marcel talking through you.” Asriel scolded her and Marisa shook her head. _ Not again _, she thought. “You’ve been talking to him, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have, he’s my brother. We have dinner twice a month. What did you expect?”

“One day, he is going to get into trouble and you might go down with him.”

Marisa forced a laughter of disdain and he pressed himself against her, his cheek brushing against hers.

“If you’re going to arrest me, I suggest you do so quickly and gag me. Wouldn’t want me talking to your friends about the things we’ve done in your meeting room, would you?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He said, with a big smile and kissed her.

His fingers intertwined with hers, so delicately, it made no sense because he was so often such a brute. Never in public, of course, and hardly in front of his colleagues; but with her, against her, he was always clashing and searching for a reason to grab her, to yell at her. Most of the times he simply wanted a reason to touch her, and Marisa liked the attention, despite it always coming with a fight afterwards or during and he could have a soft, light touch sometimes, but she hardly ever left their encounters without a bruise or scratch somewhere, so she made sure he always left the same way she did. “Not here, Asriel. Later. Now go and leave me be.”

He kissed her cheek lightly, but she felt his hands around her neck as he carefully put the necklace on her. She shook her head in disapproval, but couldn’t help a smile showing on her lips.

“It looks good on you.” He whispered, standing behind her, his hands dangerously lingering on her neck; she thought how easily would be for him to snap it, he even had told her that once, laughing. Their dogmatic war was amusing in their bedroom, but outside it was like a war on terror; he constantly threatened Marcel, who was up to his neck in spy business and she was involved herself, to a certain degree and Asriel knew, he just casually mentioned here and there as if he knew she had gone to the marketplace and not stolen important documents. Marisa thought it was odd how relaxed she felt at that moment, completely aware of the danger he represented to her, still loose under his touch as if nothing else mattered.

He squeezed her shoulders one more time, and walked away as she watched him leave, tall, imposing and with such confidence, as if the world were his for the taking. She had no doubt about it, sometimes; indeed it was.

  
  
  



	2. conflicts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per request, I wrote another short passage on this AU!  
Small spoilers for The Secret Commonwealth!  
I hope you guys like!

"I’m not sure whether you should be afraid or ashamed of it." Marcel said, and Marisa sighed, preparing herself for another round of endless discussion. She didn’t have to listen, but she indulged him all the same, because he always shared useful information _ after _ his slandering.

"You worry too much."

"_You don’t worry enough_, Marisa." He moved his wine glass from one hand to the other, watching Marisa as she carefully paged through an old book, at her study. Carefree, almost as if she wasn’t paying any attention at all to his words, although she was very keen in hearing what he had to say. "Do not take that man for granted. He is not to be trifled with, you have to know that."

She looked at him and tilted her head, and Marcel frowned at that. He set his empty glass on the coffee table with a sigh.

"You're playing with fire." He added in an ominous tone.

Her smirk grew wider, almost vicious.

"I am aware of that, Marcel."

"Sometimes it doesn't feel like that, and I worry you're blindsided by your feelings."

Marisa sighed and rubbed her temples. She knew he was right; she hated that, in fact, because there wasn't a single word Marcel had said that she wasn't aware of. Sometimes she regretted letting him know about her relationship with Asriel; at first he was happy, considering the information they could get from him, but then he grew worried, fearful even and Marisa was getting tired of listening to his speeches about caution. It was dangerous enough to let someone know about them, she didn’t need him to worry about senseless things.

"That is nonsense. I'm perfectly capable of dealing with Asriel."

Her daemon rejected whatever Marcel's owl said to him; her human crossed his legs, rubbing his eyes before glancing at his sister again.

"Walk away while you can Marisa, I am practically begging you right now." Marcel whispered, his eyes pleading against his own will. It was so unlike him to be so sentimental, which gave her pause. Marisa closed her book and set it aside, as the soft lights of the study drowned them in warm, yellow light amidst a cold evening. "He is dangerous. He keeps raiding the colleges, he is responsible for half the monitoring laws we have right now. Most importantly, he knows of your research and if he comes for you…"

She looked at her brother, almost amused, if everything he had just said wasn't absolutely terrifying.

"You are afraid of him." She stated, in a disdainful way.

"Don't be absurd." Marcel scoffed, but he moved uncomfortable on his arm chair, slightly flustered. She took that as an admission to being unnerved by Asriel, for whatever reason. Knowing Asriel like she did, it was probably something nasty. "I am simply worried you are not paying attention to all the points of view."

"What did he say to you?"

"He hasn't--"

"Marcel. Don't lie to me." Her warning tone gave him pause. "You aren't known for being cautious like this, what has he done?"

"It is nothing worth mentioning." But he moved so uncomfortably Marisa knew that was a lie, yet she did not push it further. He was clearly distressed, embarrassed even. Another unlikely behaviour; she felt as if Asriel was slowly turning them both into unknown creatures, stripping them of their very essence. The thought of that made her shiver.

They spoke about different subjects after that, and he left, feeling a bit down, leaving Marisa to her thoughts. An hour later, there was a knock on her door, as she expected; Asriel was always on time and he constantly reminded her that she should learn a thing or two from him, because she made sure to be always late whenever they were meant to meet.

"You have been with Marcel."

That was the first thing he said to her, after a moment of silence between getting into the flat and sitting on this usual armchair. Marisa offered him something to drink, which he accepted, then she pointed at the wine shelf and sat herself on her armchair. After a long moment of silence, he got up and served himself before going back to his place, with an annoyed expression on his face.

"He _ is _ my brother, I hope you understand what that means."

Asriel shook his head; she could tell he was irritated but she had difficulty believing it was all Marcel’s fault. Unless he had done something bad, something he hadn’t told her about for whatever reason. _ No, he would tell me if he had done something dangerous _, she thought as Asriel stared her down. Marisa wasn’t certain about Marcel, he was worried and beginning to show signs of relentlessness. Desperate people did desperate things, and that was why she tried to stay calm as much as possible.

"Marcel is playing with fire."

Marisa laughed with disdain. How amusing that she was surrounded by paranoid men blabbering the same speech.

"He said the same thing to me."

"Regarding me, no doubt." Marisa watched as he got up and slowly walked right up to her, mimicking his feral daemon, who so carefully pinned the monkey down on the floor. She felt instantly cornered, although there was a pleasure through the fear that Marisa couldn’t quite explain to anyone, not even herself.

She felt his warm hands on her shoulders and closed her eyes. His voice came lower this time, closer to her, barely a whisper.

"You know things you aren’t telling me, Marisa." he mumbled. “It displeases me.”

Marisa couldn’t help but laugh; Asriel sighed and pressed her shoulders, which made her straighten herself, to keep away the discomfort he was causing.

“I didn’t know you were so soft on the inside, Asriel. Apologies.”

He pressed her shoulders a little harder and she slapped his hand, quick and sharp, but he didn’t move away from her.

“What are you hiding, van Zee?”

"I know many things you don’t know; for example, I know that if you keep on trying to hurt me, I’ll make you leave." She hissed and he kissed her cheek. No apologies, but she expected none at any rate.

"You wouldn’t dare. You like me far too much."

As he stood in front of her, Marisa indulged him with a smile. She took the hand he was offering and as he pulled her up and held her tight against himself, she felt almost at peace. For a second.

"One day, you might do something that will make me dislike you, I’m sure of it."

"I find that hard to believe."

He kissed her with a hunger she was familiar with, it brought the sort of comfort she never knew she could have. For a moment all she could feel was his hands on her back, running down her legs, and up on her hair, grasping, scratching, longing. She pulled away, slowly, her resolve dissolving under his gaze, the way his lips curved into a wicked smile, his smell so strong when he was so close.

"You find everything hard to believe when it contradicts your will, Asriel." She whispered and felt his fingers dig into her skin, frowning. He bit her lower lip, taking Marisa by surprise and she couldn’t escape. She slapped his chest until he let her go, her lip now feeling numb; Asriel pulled her closer, burrowing his face on her hair as she laughed with delight, her hands running through his shoulders, down his chest, her nails clawing the flesh of his neck.

"You’ve been spending too much time around Marcel." He said and tried to kiss her again when she started laughing.

"Marcel this, Marcel that… What did you do to him?" She asked, in a playful tone, that he saw through as clearly as day. His grip softened, and he smiled in a vicious way that made Marisa shiver.

"Nothing worth mentioning."

"Interesting... he said the same thing." She mocked him and he raised an eyebrow, but she sensed Stelmaria straightening herself and watching them, even though the monkey had his hands on her fur. Marisa cursed herself for forcing to stay on his guard; now she wouldn’t learn anything and he would keep pushing to have his way. "Which is odd, because it does not make sense to have you both saying the same thing about each other."

He smiled, in a way that indicated he knew very well what she was doing, so he didn’t bother speaking, instead leaning in to kiss her again. Marisa let him and this time he was more gentle, although still passionate. His hands were on her neck, not tightly pressing against her, but enough to put her on edge. He enjoyed her caution, Marisa knew that and if she was honest with herself, she enjoyed that sense of impending doom as well.

Marisa watched with delight as he carefully and slowly opened the buttons of her blouse, his hands grasping at her skin and holding her breasts in a firm grip. She leaned her head to the left when kissed her neck and she hissed when his teeth scratched her skin. She felt his hands moving on her pants to take them off, when there was a knock on her door.

They both froze in place, and Asriel stared at the door. It was certainly someone on urgent business, as they knocked several times, quickly.

"Are you waiting for someone else?" He demanded, sharp and clearly frustrated, as he hated being interrupted. He hated even more when someone got in the way between him and his precious little time with her, she knew that, and it was stamped all over his feral face, so well-groomed yet so savage looking.

"No, of course not." Marisa whispered back and she heard Stelmaria growl, as Asriel let her go quite rudely. She was prepared not to answered the door, except this time they knocked again and Marcel’s voice echoed through it.

"Marisa, are you there?" He was clearly distressed; Marisa looked at Asriel, wide-eyed and he had a smug expression in his face, but his eyes were dark as he clearly was in a bad mood now. "Open up, now."

She quickly buttoned her shirt up, and looked at Asriel in distress. "He can’t see you here."

"Are you ashamed of me, van Zee?" Asriel mocked her, sitting in his chair again, with another glass of Tokay in hand. He looked imposing, and he started her down, waiting, patiently, like a predator. "Go on, open the door. I won’t bite, I promise -- well, I won’t bite _ him _."

She forced her smile off her face when Marcel knocked again, harder and more urgently. Marisa sighed and opened the door. He was clearly in distress; breathing heavily, as if he had run for kilometers before getting to the flat, his face red and hot. He stumbled in, confused.

"Are you alright?" He asked in a hurry.

"Yes, why? What happened?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes lay upon Asriel and he immediately shut up and straightened himself, his expression darkening. His daemon sat on his shoulder, stoic. Marisa cleared her throat and that sound made him look at her.

"Why is he here?" Marcel barked. His owl daemon opened her wings in a threatening way.

"Why are _ you _ here?" Asriel scoffed back, Stelmaria laying at his feet, looking bored. Marisa knew that they were pretending though, and instead, Asriel had that dark glitter in his eyes when he was planning something vicious.

Marcel was clearly trying really hard not to yell at him.

"It’s my sister’s home… Nevermind, it’s good that you’re here, maybe you can explain to Marisa why her office was raided."

She looked at them, back and forth. Asriel looked cool and calm, while Marcel was stressed out and alarmed. Stelmaria’s tail moved, slightly and that was what gave Marisa pause. He was… _ pondering _and Asriel never pondered anything, he was far too relentless for that, too impulsive.

"Slow down, Marcel. What do you mean?"

"I was at Jordan when I heard the commotion. Dame Hannah told me your office was invaded, it was a mess." He explained in a calm tone; his eyes kept darting back to Asriel, wary and embarrassed, as far as Marisa could tell. "I can’t even tell if they took anything."

She felt as if the world was about to start spinning around really fast; taking a deep breath and feeling the touch of her daemon on her legs, Marisa looked at Asriel, but he didn’t say a word. He rose an eyebrow as if daring her to say anything.

"I should’ve known." She mumbled, scarcely surprised now. "You were being far too nice, I should’ve known you’d do something like this."

"You assume this was my doing, Marisa." Asriel said, pressing his lips firmly in a sign of disdain.

"Who else, then, Asriel?" She scorned him and Marcel moved unsettled.

"It could have been anyone, there are enough people out there capable of doing harm. Besides, my work is licensed by the Magisterium, we’d do it at broad daylight. The inspections - yes, inspections, not raids - are meant only to see that the academic environment stays clear of any heretical research."

"Do you really want me to believe you had nothing to do with that?" Marisa rubbed her face, indignant. "What’s the point of being with you if you can’t even protect me from that nonsense?"

He stood up and got closer, staring her down. She felt like kissing and hurting him, except with Marcel as an audience, she felt uncomfortable.

"I only approve the raids, I have no knowledge of where they happen." His voice was a little shaky; despite his many talents, Asriel was a terrible liar, at least when he tried to lie to her. "And even if I did, the work I do is for a greater good, I thought you understood that."

"Then tell me why _ my _ office was a target." She demanded, but he didn’t buy it, instead shaking his head. Marisa felt her blood boil of rage.

"Do you expect me to believe you’re only with me because it’s an advantage to you?" He laughed bitterly and Marisa tried really hard not to slap him. "Because if you do, then you're a fool, Marisa.”

"Why else would I stoop so low as to sleep with you?" She spat; Stelmaria growled but Asriel barely moved. "You’re a Magisterium lapdog, nothing more."

He took a deep breath, a very long, deep breath.

"You are despicable."

"Likewise."

There was a long moment of silence, when Marisa and Asriel stared into each other’s eyes without flinching or blinking and neither of them backing down. Marisa felt the tension between them wearing her down, until Marcel interrupted it, thankfully.

"Perhaps I should leave."

"No." She hissed and pointed at him. "You stay. We have a lot to discuss. And _ you _ ," she pointed at Asriel, her index finger touching his chest; she could feel the warm coming from his body, Marisa could tell he was very angry at this point. " _ get out _. And the next time I see you, Asriel, you better be on your knees begging for forgiveness. It’s the very least you could do after this mess you’ve created."

For a while, no one moved. Asriel took a step forward and looked into Marisa’s eyes; she felt a mixture of things that did not go well together, and she was often proud of her ability to read him, but at that moment he was much like a void. She couldn’t tell whether he was hurt or furious or even amused by her resolve; she pondered if she abused her luck. _ The following weeks would tell _, she thought.

“You’re forgetting your place.” He whispered in her ear but before he could move away, Marisa grabbed him by his shirt and whispered back in his ear.

“No, you’re forgetting yours, _ my lord. _”

She let him go and he watched her like a predator, waiting, his eyes moving and only his eyes, as he watched her dark expression, and then he turned around to get his coat; she walked him to the door, but he didn’t look at her, nor did he say a word to her. The monkey tried to reach for Stelmaria, but she simply moved away, not even granting them a growl of anger.

“Send my regards to father Macphail, will you?” She mocked him, expectant. He reacted, at the very least; his eyes darted at her, probably trying to find a weakness, but if he found anything, he didn’t say. He straightened his coat and walked away.

She watched him leave with dread. The next morning, when she opened the door, there were two boxes with books and notebooks that she immediately recognised as her research, intact. There was no note or message, but she knew it had to be his handiwork. It was always his handiwork. When she searched the books, she found a note scribbled at her main notebook, with a biblical passage about forgiveness.

_So uptight_, she thought, smiling against her own will, as she always did


	3. sinful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to sami for the english help and for supporting marisa's heretical thoughts. lol  
and thank y'all for reading this highly horny fic, i have zero regrets.

Marisa walked in, hearing her footsteps echo through the chapel; it was empty except for his lonely figure, powerful and well-defined while kneeling at the first row of pews. His leopard daemon purred quietly beside him, while he had his head down, as if in prayer, but Stelmaria's tail was swinging everywhere, so she knew he was aware of her presence.

Before him lay a beautiful altar, rich in marble, gold and silver, as candles lit the figure of Holy Mary in an ominous light. Marisa found her place in a row before his, sitting in silence and watching as he barely moved a muscle, his hands intertwined in each other, his breathing at a painstakingly balanced rhythm, his posture awfully disciplined. Marisa found herself holding her breath and she wasted an extreme amount of effort to convince herself that she wasn’t breathless because of awe; it was more of a sort of apprehension.

“Your sense of humour is getting dryer by the minute.” She whispered and he let out a hum she understood as his laughter. His suit seemed to struggle in his current position, but he looked comfortable, in place. Even on his knees, he looked imposing, his forehead touching his joined hands; Stelmaria turned to face Marisa and the monkey reached for her, quietly and discreet under the pews.

“What makes you say that?” He asked in a monotonous tone, without looking at her.

Marisa knew that he thought that not acknowledging her was a way to drive her onto him; she thought that was stupid.

“Meeting at a place like this, it feels wrong.”

“I thought you weren't religious.” The mockery in his tone made her twist her lips into a smirk.

“I am not, but you are. Is this your attempt to convert me to your ways?” She looked at his back and watched his hands grip at the front pew to stay balanced. “Let me remind you, I have no fear regarding the Authority. This won’t work.”

He finally moved, rising tall and imperative, a smug expression and a malicious glitter in his eyes. Marisa shivered, for she had seen that expression before and it gave her pause, as well it stirred something inside her; a source of pleasure that came only from the hesitation. She never spoke of it, though she was aware Asriel could see it in her eyes and she despised it, because that alone gave him too much power over her. The powerlessness filled her with a sense of euphoria born out pain, as well as the struggle to hide away the shame, something she was so unfamiliar with.

“Marcel is right, sometimes.” Her monkey had told her on their way to the chapel; she hissed, discontented because they were right, sort of. She was blindsided, just not by her feelings. It was something else, something that ran much deeper, something much more primitive than a simple concept such as love.

“The Authority oversees you regardless if you fear Him or not.”

She smiled, looking at him; he straightened his suit and Stelmaria circled the monkey between the pews, as his little hands dug into her fur. She knew she was lost before anything had even happened; Marisa insisted on resisting because that was what made it all much more fun.

“I hope he didn't see what you did to me last month, then. That would definitely send you to hell.”

He didn't say anything, but offered his hand to help her stand, which she accepted with a smug attitude. Pulling her closer, he kissed her, the pews keeping them apart except for his hand on her back. He bit her lower lip when he pulled apart from her.

“Why am I here?” She said, softly, so quiet she barely heard her own voice.

“I’d like to speak to you in private.”

“And a Chapel was your brilliant idea?” Marisa added, while he pulled her closer, pressing her against himself, but the pew was still between, the old wood strongly barring her from fully touching him. One of his knees was on the pew, as he leaned in to kiss her again, his hands messing her hair, his scent all around her. She knew what was coming; he wasn’t as unpredictable as he liked to believe he was, but Marisa indulged him all the same. “I see. You do realise I am not alone, don’t you?”

She meant the people that were watching her, people she knew Asriel was aware of. Since her office had been raided, Marcel had insisted that she had a silent guard; Oakley Street members that watched her, day and night, without being seen or known. She knew they were there, despite hardly ever seeing them, but the sense of always being accompanied, something that with her daemon she always had felt, was now nearly palpable.

Asriel let her go, almost pushing her away, as if she was sick and he wanted her at a distance. His face had a frown, as he now seemed clearly irritated with her presence. Marisa never understood how a man as impatient and easily enraged like he was, managed to be so highly skilled in politics, especially inside the Magisterium where the mere sneeze in the wrong place could unravel a series of inner fights.

“Yes, I am aware.”

“This is as private as it’s gonna get, so, speak your mind.” Her voice had a playful tone that he clearly did not approve. Stelmaria made an annoyed noise.

“This… security, is unnecessary.” He stroked her cheek in a uncannily soft way. The way his eyes glared over her, measuring every inch of her face gave her goosebumps. “Marcel is being…”

She scoffed, openly and loudly enough and that made him react immediately; he stepped away from the pew and straightened his shoulders, and looked down on her in a way that made her flinch out of fury. He had an awful, disdainful grin that twisted only slightly the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were darker and glittering with sheer malice.

They had been together for over a year now, and yet the past six months Marcel was all she heard coming from his mouth and it was always something bad. He frowned, but she couldn’t tell if he was mad or frustrated or maybe both with a slight touch of amusement. In his position, he could afford to be a sadist with little consequence, but even his sadism was composed, modified to fit in when all he truly wanted was to be free and wild. Marisa was his doorway to that; without her he was confined to a life of secrecy, mischief and politics, as boring as they come, since the Magisterium had so little to offer when it came to novelty.

“Ugh, Marcel  _ this _ , Asriel  _ that _ … I’m so tired of you two rambling all around me about each other.” She whispered in a frenzy and he shook his head; the monkey bared his teeth to the snow leopard, who barely blinked at him. That was offensive, Marisa thought, it was as if they didn’t care about what she was saying, which they probably didn’t. “I am a busy woman, you know that. You’re obsessed with each other, it’s infuriating!”

“Then tell him to walk away.”

“ _ Make _ him walk away. You’re so powerful, or so you say, yet you keep nagging me about Marcel as if he had any feasible power over you. I’m certain he doesn’t, he’s a politician, a low ranking one at that. Just take a gun and start a fight. Whoever wins gets to annoy me.”

“You once told me if I ever harmed him, you’d never again look at me.” Asriel laughed, bitterly. She watched as he walked away from her, to the altar; it was dark outside, as it was already half past ten and under the half light inside the chapel, he looked eerily in shades of warm orange, yellow and red lamps. Asriel took one of the goblets at the altar and examined it carefully, as it was more interesting than what Marisa had to say, but Stelmaria had followed him there and she was quietly watching Marisa, lying on the floor.

“Then make sure you lose the fight.”

He stood quiet, to the point that became uncomfortable. She could almost hear their breathing sounds echoing through the empty chapel, as darkness swallowed them in while the lamps struggled to illuminate them. Asriel looked at her, quiet, unsettling and Marisa’s instincts immediately kicked in: she felt slightly in danger, yet she did not move. The monkey made a gesture that indicated he wanted to go after Stelmaria, but Marisa made him know through her will that he was not to move.

“Is that all you need from me?” She whispered, but in that cold silence it almost felt as if she was screaming. “Did you seriously made me come all this way just to complain about my brother and kiss me in a morbid chapel?”

“You really think you’re in control, don’t you?” His voice shaked a little; she couldn’t tell if he was angry or simply preparing to bait her.

“It’s not my fault you’ve been lacking backbone recently.” Marisa watched as he slowly put his hands in his pockets, raising his chin as she spoke; he was too confident, too amused. She felt unsure, but didn’t let it show. “You used to be interesting and I’m not so sure you’re worth the trouble anymore.”

“Don’t push your luck.” His eyes narrowed.

“I don’t rely on luck, Asriel.” She barked back, but he pushed her further onto the wall.

“You keep testing my patience, Marisa.” He made sure to emphasise her name; she closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Whatever game he was playing, she began to feel it wasn’t worth it; Stelmaria sat down now, attentive. “What happens when I get tired of you?”

“I don’t know.” She scoffed again; she couldn’t help herself. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, a sign that he took offense on her reaction. “ _ Show _ me.”

They stared at each other, in silence, for a while. Marisa was shaking with expectation, as well as a slight hint of fear; she didn’t know what to expect. Would he walk away? Would he break things off for good? Would he hurt her?  _ No _ , she thought,  _ he wouldn’t hurt me _ . That was a fact she examined carefully during the course of their relationship; as cruel as he was sometimes, he enjoyed the pleasure she felt out of being controlled, of delighting in pain, not the pleasure of harming her for no reason. Everything Asriel did was carefully planned, even if he sometimes decided to do something spontaneous.

“Come here.” He commanded.

Marisa didn’t move, nor said anything. The monkey got the best of her though, walking slowly to Stelmaria, cautious but still very eager. She had no choice but to follow him, and it was distressing to see the glitter of triumph in Asriel’s eyes as she moved in his direction. His face was softly hidden in the penumbra, partially illuminated by the lamps at the altar.

She got close enough for him to touch her, but he didn’t even take his hands off his pockets. Marisa had to look up, as he was on a step higher than she was, his chin brushing against her forehead. The scent of his breath came softly upon her face, a mixture of Tokay and cigar and a hint of mint; he looked down at her, his lips twitching while he watched Marisa close her eyes and part her own lips slowly, so inviting. She heard him laugh, but felt his face close enough, warm and fuzzy with his beard, his lips teasingly brushing against hers. There was a cold shiver down her spine when she felt the tip of his tongue slightly touch her upper lip; Marisa clenched her fists, letting out a heavy sigh of sheer impatience.

He did not laugh this time.

“Kneel.” His voice sounded hoarse so up close, in such a low tone, yet it seemed as if the entire chapel could hear them. She felt his hands on her shoulders, softly pressing her down, his fingertips burying themselves on her skin through the fabric of her blouse.

Marisa opened her eyes and found him watching her with an almost depraved expression.

“That’s--” She began, but he quickly interrupted her. There was a thrilling feeling inside her, a coldness that seemed to spread through all her limbs and that she couldn’t describe, but she enjoyed it thoroughly.

“I said  _ ‘Kneel’ _ .” He whispered, pressing her down. She relaxed, feeling one of his hands slid up the nape of her neck as she slowly began to kneel, holding his gaze. He grabbed her hair tighter, making her hiss and close her eyes again.

Marisa was almost on the floor when they heard footsteps echoing through the whole Chapel, but lucky for them, the entrance was far enough to give her time to recompose herself and put some distance between them. The monkey quickly climbed her back to her arms to look as nonchalant as possible. As soon as Asriel turned his back to Marisa, facing the altar, they heard the main door open and someone walk in.

“Lord Asriel? I’m so sorry, my lord, I had no idea you’d be here tonight, otherwise I would have prepared the candles for you.”

Marisa watched as Asriel slowly turned back to face the man who entered the chapel, a priest; old, frail and anxious at the presence of such an important Magisterium official. She noticed the man quickly recognised Asriel, which meant he probably frequented the Chapel regularly enough to be known. Marisa made a mental note of that.

“There was no need. I came for a bit of privacy for my prayers, but I should leave now.” Asriel nodded at the man, and made his way out; he nodded at Marisa too and winked at her before leaving.

She forced herself not to look so frustrated, and quickly reassured the priest she had a ride waiting for her outside to take her home, which was partially true.

She walked outside, in a dark, damp street lit up by lonely lampposts; her monkey saw the dark car before she did. They were parked a few meter away, under the cover of a large, thick tree, whose shadow concealed most of it. Marisa made her way in their direction, quietly, and as she got close, she knocked softly at the window.

“How do you do, Miss Delamare?” A fair-haired man lowered the window, smiling; she recognised him as Bud Schlesinger, an Oakley Street ally.

“Marcel’s the Delamare. I’m van Zee.” She corrected him, and he cheerfully apologised. His owl daemon blinked at her and her own daemon, now back on the floor, watching the deserted street. They were not supposed to talk to each other at all, yet there they were. “You’re alone tonight.”

“I am. It was a rather quiet day, no need for two of us.”

“You won’t mind giving me a ride back to the college, then.” She said, in a way that more an affirmation than a request. He nodded, with his pleasant manners; Marisa got in the car, sitting beside him on the passenger seat.

“Maybe you should go in the back seat, just so you won’t be seen with me, Miss van Zee.” Bud suggested, but she shushed him with a hand gesture.

“I’ll be fine, Bud. Just take me home. I’m exhausted.”

He turned on the radio while they drove back to St. Sophia’s, roughly a twenty minutes trip, which they performed in silence. It was awkward, but friendly; he made a comment on the weather at some point, and Marisa mentioned a concert that would happened in Oxford in two weeks. She was still feeling shaken by her encounter with Asriel, and the monkey whispered to her that Bud likely saw Asriel leaving. That gave her pause, and she used their silence to ponder.

When they arrived at the entrance of St. Sophia, far enough not to be seen by the porter, but close enough that Marisa could quickly get there, Bud stopped the car. Marisa cleared her throat, thinking on how to better phrase her comment.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen who left the chapel before I did, have you?”

Bud looked at her, and she detected some amusement in his expression that he was concealing behind a respectful manner.

“I’m afraid I have, though it was dark enough for me not to notice much.” He said; his daemon was an owl and he was a spy. Marisa laughed.

“I would appreciate if you didn’t mention this to my brother. He has a lot on his plate at the moment, to worry about… _ trivial _ things.”

Bud shook his head and opened the door of the car for her.

“Miss van Zee, believe me,  _ that _ is one conversation I’m not interested in having with your brother.” He laughed and she walked back to the college. “Have a good evening.”


	4. beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel and Marisa meet for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hola! this isn't exactly my best one so far, but it's good enough I suppose and from here I can go to different directions.  
I hope you enjoy it.

“Marisa, we need to talk.” Hannah Relf's voice echoed through the corridor, well-lit with it's large windows, sunlight bathing the stone floor in a warm, dense yellow light.

She stopped halfway and turned to face Hannah, holding three heavy books in her arms. The other woman had a frown so deep Marisa thought it was gonna leave a mark. Hannah’s daemon followed her, anxious too, but that wasn’t so unusual.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Not really, not yet anyway. Have you heard the news?” Hannah took one of Marisa's books and together, they walked side by side until they left for the gardens of St. Sophia's.

“You mean Magdalen College? Yes, I've heard.” Marisa sighed; she knew Hannah meant the raid one of the colleges had endured in the last two days. The Magisterium had sent its Inquisition to take over and meddle with all the research in Magdalen, turning the place into a mess. Lucky for the Magdalen scholars, they found nothing to incriminate them, unlike three poor scholars in Balliol. One of them had been arrested and the other two, forced to destroy their research of a lifetime, truly a sin. “They'll recover.”

“Only to be taken down again. This has to stop, Marisa.”

“These are dark times, Hannah. Sadly, there's very little we can do. They didn't find anything, did they?”

“Luckily, no.” Hannah sighed. “Do you think there was nothing to be found there?”

“Oh,  _ no _ . They must have hidden their heretical research  _ very well _ .” Marisa offered her a nice smile, that seemed to reassure Hannah, at least for a while. “You’re distressed, regardless. Why is that?”

Marisa listened cautiously as Hannah explained to her that they would receive a Magisterium visitor that evening, on a social call or so they claimed. Hannah - and Marisa - knew better; they had come to Magdalen too, under the guise of a social interaction, but they were actually scouting, marking down the scholars that were considered dangerously heretical. They clearly intended to do the same at St. Sophia's.

“I'd rest easier if you kept your most… controversial research away from this place, at least until they decide to look somewhere else.”

Marisa shook her head.

“I appreciate your concern, but my current research is not that controversial. Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself. Now, you must tell me, who is this representative?”

His name was Asriel Belacqua, and apparently he was a lord that represented the English branch of the League for the Instauration of the Holy Purpose, informally known as  _ La Maison Juste _ . Hannah spoke of him as someone who had only heard of him, she had very few facts to give her, but Marisa already knew of him, in some ways. Marcel had mentioned the man in the past and it wasn't good: he was ruthless, a bit of a sadist and far more clever than the usual Magisterium thug.

Oakley Street assumed that Lord Asriel had some sort of Intelligence group running in London, within his  _ La Maison Juste _ agenda, and he had been giving them a hard time with his diplomatic reach. Marisa, at first, thought that was an exaggeration, as Oakley Street was often having a hard time, but quickly she learned of the two agents that went missing, and then the other two that had been wounded while being caught at their drop site. Lord Asriel clearly had been busy, slowly and methodically rooting out Oakley Street, even though they couldn’t quite prove it had been his handiwork.

“It's a slaughter, he's taking them one by one.” Hannah was clearly nervous, so Marisa stopped and put a hand on her shoulder, deliberately smiling with a gentleness that was oddly uncharacteristic for her.

“It's  _ similar _ to a slaughter, but this man is not with the CCD. He doesn't strike me as a thug, and he clearly has a lot of finesse.” Marisa whispered, and watched with delight as Hannah began to breathe more easily, relaxed. “What does that say to you?”

“That he is no butcher, or so it seems.”

“Indeed. And if we can learn that, we may learn more, perhaps even a weakness. They all have a weakness, Hannah, and it's a matter of time and method until we find his.”

***

“Can I help you?” Marisa watched the man in front of her office door slowly turn around to face her, his snow leopard daemon staring solemnly at Marisa. She recognised him almost immediately; everything about him screamed  _ Magisterium man _ . “Ah, you must be Lord Asriel. Are you lost, my lord?”

The corners of his lips twisted slightly when she approached him, her monkey walking beside her.

“Ah, no. I’m simply taking a stroll around the college.” He turned to face her door again; Marisa noticed how his thumb was softly brushing against his index finger, in a thoughtful gesture. “Tell me, is this your office, miss…?”

“... van Zee. Like in the door plaque.” She offered her hand to him, and he looked at her, amused, delighted even with her straightforwardness. Marisa felt his tight grip, but she didn’t wince at all, instead lifting her chin in an almost defiant gesture. “Yes, this is my office.”

“So,  _ you’re  _ van Zee.” He clicked his lips with an unsatisfying delight, that made Marisa feel like he was enjoying a joke only he could understand and at her expense no less. “I've heard of you. Quite a lot, in fact.”

“All good things, I'm sure.” Her savage smile made his grin slightly twitch; he took a step away from her. “I've heard of you too. Your handiwork at Magdalen is quite the gossip around here.”

She observed him with an excruciatingly surgical gaze as his whole body moved while he laughed at her, his voice echoing through the empty hall, lit with soft yellow lamps as night fell outside the window nearby. He was good at picking up nuances, Marisa thought, and even better at hiding his own.

“My work does get a bit controversial.”

“You censor theologians for a living, so that's not really a surprise, is it?”

She could swear she heard him hiss, his lips firmly pressed in a frustrated expression, but she could see the sardonic glitter in his eyes, how he looked her up and down, not in a lustful way but in a mechanical manner; measuring, pondering her, because he saw in her an obstacle and he was unused to being so blatantly confronted. He was quick to react though, and Marisa waited for his next move, almost eagerly - perhaps too eagerly - glancing rapidly over the snow leopard who so meticulously observed the monkey, sitting by Marisa's ankles.

“It’s in our best interest to keep all sorts of educational institutions free from any sort of ideas that could be deemed dangerous.” He said and Marisa straightened herself, pressing her lips to suppress a chuckle. His body language, fluid and imposing, was very clear: he was a deliberate liar and most importantly, he enjoyed noticing she knew that. “It’s a good thing to keep people safe, don’t you agree?”

“Ah, of course. We wouldn't want people believing in something not approved by the Magisterium, would we?” She mocked. “The danger of free thinking!”

“Your sarcasm is refreshing, as well as unnecessary, miss van Zee. But trust me when I tell you that it doesn't concern me what people believe, as long as they remain obedient.”

His daemon growled softly, discreetly; two students suddenly turned the corridor and walked by them, offering Marisa a quick glance of curiosity and measuring Asriel with same hungry fear one would have expected. He barely spared them a glance, and Marisa greeted them as they passed by and turned again at the end of the corridor, their soft conversation fading.

“You're a scholar here.”

“Did you assume that based on my office door or the girls who greeted me?” Marisa narrowed her eyes, but felt utterly bored when he put his hands on his pocket. She wasn't much for psychology, but she understood that as a sign he wasn't going to engage in her little argument. If he wasn’t going to be interesting, then what was the point of even enduring his presence?

“Have I offended you somehow, miss van Zee?” He rose an eyebrow. “You seem a little worked up.”

“Offended?” She scoffed. The monkey showed them his sharp teeth, making an indignant noise.  _ No playing anymore, then, _ she thought, almost disappointed.  _ Entirely _ disappointed. “Your presence offends me, Lord Asriel. You march into this college with a lack of respect that is offensive. You defile our research and bully our students and professors and  _ that is offensive _ . Have you no shame? No good sense?”

“I'm here to destroy heretical,  _ dangerous _ researches. As long as your work remains within our guidelines, you should be fine, miss van Zee.” He took a step closer again, towering over her, forcing her to look up for once and that was the hardest thing she had ever done. She realised then she had already lost their little power play before it even started. He knew it, he was just slowly appreciating her ignorance about it. It was infuriating. “One might say that people often take advantage of academic freedom to sow dissent.”

“Only fools see a threat in any sort of knowledge.” She snapped and his eyes narrowed, but neither of them moved. Her monkey carefully laid his hands on her leg, trying to encourage her. He didn’t have to though, it was unlike her to back down from a fight. “You’re not a fool, are you, Lord Asriel?”

He laughed, as if he was indulging a child and that pissed her off beyond measure. He leaned in, slowly, carefully, his eyes stuck on hers and Marisa felt a shiver. She was abusing her luck by taunting that man, Marcel and Hannah warned her about him yet she simply didn't listen as usual. There was a wave of regret washing down her body but she held back whatever emotions she was feeling and concentrated on getting the upper hand again.

“Those are very dangerous words, miss van Zee. I'd be careful if I were you.” He whispered, grinning. 

“Or what? You're going to raid my office? Confiscated my research?”

“That'd be fun, don't you think?” He rose an eyebrow and took a step back, his hand now on the doorknob, as his viciously watched Marisa for any movements, any signs of weaknesses: fear, shock, despair. But there was none. He turned the doorknob; Marisa held her breath. Nothing happened.

He tried again and again, but the door didn't open. Asriel glanced at Marisa and watched as she reached for something around her neck: a delicate golden chain, and the pendant it held was hidden underneath Marisa's blouse. She took it off and showed him the key.

He laughed heartily.

“Clever woman.” He watched her take the necklace off and hold the key firmly in her hands, as if she was afraid he would try and grab it. “Why would you keep your office locked like this, miss van Zee?”

She walked to the door, bumping into him to send him out of her way

“I keep valuable things in there and a person is entitled to their privacy.”

“It seems to me you're hiding something.” He stood behind her, whispering in her ears, his chin brushing her hair hair aside. He never actually touched her, not with his hands anyway, and she reprimanded herself later for being as careless as to enjoy all of that. She turned the key. “What are you hiding, miss van Zee?”

Once she heard the door unlocking, she abruptly turned around to face him; if he was startled by the sudden movement, he didn't show nor he moved. She could almost feel his breath on her face, they were far too close now.  _ Inappropriate _ wouldn't even begin to describe it.

“Wouldn't you like to know that?” She mocked, then turned around and got in her office quickly. She slammed the door on his face before he could even reach for it.

Marisa doubted he was going to try and break it, not for now anyway, but she locked the door from the inside and pressed her body against it to hear him better. He was knocking, quietly.

“That's very childish of you.” He went on saying and she chuckled, loud enough for him to hear. “You're making this exceptionally harder only for yourself. I could come back tomorrow morning with a whole squad to raid this office and take you down.”

“Well, do that then. I dare you.”

He paused for a couple of seconds. She could almost taste his confusion.

“What?”

“I said I dare you. You won't find anything, anyway.”

“Then why won't you let me in?”

She sighed and opened the door enough so they could see each other's faces. He didn't try to force his way in nor anything like that, which left her curious. Instead, he leaned in and his daemon purred.

“Because right now you look like you've been scorned, and it suits you very well, my Lord.” She hissed and he scoffed. “I take it it's not something you're used to.”

“No. Of course not.”

They stood in silence, staring at each other with an expectation of something that never came. His eyes glanced all over her face, to her lips more times than she could count.

“This is a university.” She said at last. “There's no place for unbending faith in here.”

He looked at her with amusement stamped all over his face. She felt like he was pondering whether or not she was worthy and he seemed to have decided she was.

“Faith is the least of my concerns. It doesn't matter to me - to us - whether you believe or not.” He whispered, getting closer to the door; she felt like she should've shut it down, but she didn't. He reached for her, but didn't touch her, his hand hovering close to her collarbone, his fingers faintly brushing against her skin. Marisa swallowed hard. “I don't care if a scholar in here, in the silence of their dreams, speaks of heresy; what I care is if they speak it too loudly.”

“We are a house of--”She began but he shushed her and for once, she stood quiet.

“You are a house of knowledge, yes. I know, I went to Jordan myself. You see me as another mindless church follower, but I assure you, that is not the case, not in the slightest. Think of it this way, then:” he went on, saying everything quietly and softly, as if it were a secret no one could even fathom it. He touched her lips, parted, and he did so softly, so delicately, almost gently, but Marisa could see the way his eyes glittered and how he smiled with a hunger she thought was flattering, but also viciously dangerous. His hand slowly slid, through her chin and he held her neck, faintly, almost as if he didn’t want to put any force in it. She dug her fingers on his hand. “you have scholars who are unorthodox. They do have wild theories that they speak about in their circles, theories that go against the very facts you study sometimes; but as long as they retain the college's methods, the logical method that facts and study have developed, you let them ramble about said theories, quietly and in an non-official way. It's the same for me. My concern is that we abide by the Magisterium's way of life, whether we believe in it or not; and if not, then do so in silence.”

“That's a bold statement.” She managed to say, her voice coarse; she felt dizzy and heated. She hated that she had given up control too soon, and given him the advantage, an advantage he did not need.

“Oddly enough, it's the truth.” He straightened himself, licking the fingers which had touched her lips. Marisa found herself getting flustered for a reason she couldn't quite explain; she wasn't shy nor a prude, yet the way he had done that, how Asriel made the whole action look so depraved… She felt odd. “It’s my job that people live by our standards, but also, I need to maintain a balance with their daily lives. I don’t care if they don’t have a holy picture hanging in their walls, or if they own bibles - which most of them do, out of habit -, that’s not what matters to the Holy Church. It’s a modern world, thus modern solutions are required to ensure faith remains strong.”

She tilted her head and he laughed.

“You don’t believe me, that’s fine. I don’t need you to, actually. You think I’m just like those Consistorial Court idiots.”

“I think you’re an upgraded version of them, yes.”

“Oh, please.” He scoffed. “Those thugs think they can get anything if they’re brutal enough. I’m much more pleasant than that. Now, will you let me in or do I have to raid your office?”

“Why should I do that?”

“I’m sure Marcel would be disappointed if I arrested his  _ sister _ . You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you? I know I wouldn’t, even though he disappoints me all the time, by getting in my way.”

She looked at him, as if for the first time. There was a smart man, perhaps too smart, she finally considered. He was right, all she could see was the Magisterium persona, the figure of a believer; it blindsided even her keen senses. There was a reason he knew who she was, even though they had never met before and that reason was he knew Marcel was with Oakley Street and he knew they were related. He shouldn’t know any of that.

“Ah! I should’ve known you had figured it out.” She mumbled and with his finger, her stroke her cheek in a eerily way.

“The surname change, that was a nice touch, I have to say. And you have the same eyes, it’s a little scary.”

She shook her head, sneering.

“Nevermind that. You do know if you raid my office, you won't find anything because the research will be destroyed, right?” She smiled, almost disgustingly sweet, and felt so much delight to see him smiling back, captivated, nearly mesmerised. “And then I would have to go to a new university, where I could start a fresh project.”

“That would be regretful, yes.”

“So I propose you this: my research is not heretical enough to bother you, so if you keep your raids away from St. Sophia's, we shall have a very pleasant time together.” She glanced him up and down and smiled. “I may even show you some of my current papers, if you'd like.”

“That's an interesting proposition.” Asriel shook his head. “Or I could just break down your office door. Have you arrested. We could have just as much fun in that position."

“Of course, it's your choice, but I won't be inclined to be as pleasant under those circumstances. Something to consider, I suppose.”

They watched each other in silence, each looking for a sign of weakness in the other and both finding none. Asriel laughed, at last and took a step back.

“You're a wicked woman, van Zee.”

“If you decide to not destroy my career, you can call me Marisa.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Marisa… Of course.” He said every syllable of her name as if they were a prayer. “I think your overestimate your own skills.”

“I’m known to be many things, but I can assure you, I do not boast about things I can’t boast about.”

He made a noise deep in his throat that she considered an amused scoff; he slid his tongue on his lower lip, unsure for once, thinking, pondering.

“I look forward to seeing more of you, van Zee.”

She watched him turn around and leave, surprised with her own boldness because she had never faced anyone like him before. His confidence was astounding and he never faltered because in his position, he was used to always getting things his way.

As much as she had confidence in her own skills, she started to hide her most controversial papers in books or hidden spots, and the worst of the worst she put it in her bag to take them home with her that evening. With Asriel, she felt like she shouldn't leave anything to chance and she didn't.

She expected to find the office ruined in the morning, but it was just as she had left. She waited the whole day, but he never came, nor did anyone under his orders. And the next week was just as calm and silent. The relief she felt was almost as pleasant as the thought of seeing Asriel again.


	5. thievery

“You certainly took your time in that bath.” She told him, sitting on his bed and watching him dry his face with a towel in front of a mirror. She had arrived not five minutes ago and he was already irritated, which was indeed unusual. Most of the times it would take at least a couple of words from her to upset him.

“Can’t a man have any privacy anymore?” He snapped, throwing the towel at her; he had another wrapped around his waist. Marisa threw the towel on the floor.

“You’re in a mood today. What happened?”

He ignored her, instead looking for his shaving apparatus. He spread the shaving cream on his face with a certain brutality, glancing over Marisa through the mirror; he could only see part of her legs and partially her face, which had a malicious grin stamped on it.

“If you’re going to ignore me all day, I might as well leave. I’m way behind on my paper, but I thought you could use some company for today.” She said, with a sly smile, but all he did was put his shaving cream back in its place, with a heavy sound as he violently put it down. She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Loud noises don’t intimidate me, Asriel. You should know that.”

“I’d like you to leave.” He mumbled, reaching for his razor in the vanity.

“Why?”

“I don’t need a reason, Marisa. Leave me alone.”

“I want a reason all the same.” She watched as he closed his eyes, impatient.

He slammed the table, and turned his head just enough so he could side-eye her. She shivered, although she used all her willpower to hide it from his sight; he clearly was in a bad mood.

“I don't need a reason. You're forgetting your place, as usual, but today is not a good day for that. Leave.” He turned to the mirror again, Stelmaria put a paw on his thigh; he had slammed the table with the razor in his hand and it was bleeding now. “Fuck. Give me that towel.” He clenched his fist to stop the bleeding.

She decided to oblige him, picking up the towel he had thrown her way from the floor, still damp, and handing it to him over his shoulder. He grunted something she assumed was a thank you, but Marisa thought she must have imagined it, because Asriel was never grateful.

He took the towel and wrapped his hand in it, hissing from the pain. She rested her hands on his shoulders and he grew tense.

“Funny, now you need me.”

“I needed the towel.”

“So you say now, but I don't believe you.”

“You're welcome to leave, Marisa.”

She slid her hands down to his chest, her head beside his, his bearded cheek, with the shaving cream on, brushing against hers. She stared at his reflection in the mirror with a deviant smile, and he looked funny with his white beard and wet hair.

“You see, you're the one forgetting how things really are. I can find at least ten men who are just like you.”

“You wish, van Zee.” He said with a frown; he probably knew where she was heading to with that. Asriel used his unharmed hand to grip tighter the wounded one. The monkey tried to stroke Stelmaria, but she growled and he backed away, close to Marisa's legs.

“Oh, but I can. Entitled pricks are everywhere, especially in the Magisterium. If I want to have a bit of fun, your people have a vast catalogue for me to choose from.” She planted kiss on his neck and felt his shoulder relax a bit; the monkey moved towards the snow leopard again, but this time she didn't try to stay away. “Now you, Asriel, you won't find a replacement for me, no matter how hard you try. So I suggest you treat me at least with respect, given you are unfamiliar with the word  _ nice _ .”

He turned his head and she smiled, looking in his eyes from such a close distance. His nose tip brushed against hers; when he tried to kiss her, she pulled away because he still had shaving cream all over his face. He realised that then, and sighed. Marisa thought she never saw him looking so defeated and restless. It was in fact, quite a boring sight; she had forgotten how mundane he could be.

“Let me help you.” She said and he scoffed.

“Give a razor to you? You work for the other side.”

“I don't  _ work _ for them, I  _ know of _ them. It's very different.” That was only partially true, but details didn't matter right now, only his frustration and the scent of his skin and the way his lips moved into a bitter grin, as he was entertained by her presence even though he wasn't feeling up to it. She reached for the razor, but he took it first. “Don't you trust me?”

“No.”

She chuckled. “Good. Trust is overrated.” She carefully took the razor from his hands, and started shaving him from his left side. She had one hand carefully holding his chin, from behind him, so she could feel when he swallowed hard every time she placed the blade on his skin. “Tell me, why the bad mood?”

“It's none of your business.” He said and hissed when she accidentally (actually accidentally!) nicked his cheek. She used her index finger to clean him and stop the bleeding. “If you're going to be clumsy, stop.”

She smiled and considered hurting him again, on purpose this time, but decided not to, as his bad mood could really get worse and she had hopes he would be really affectionate after it passed. She went back to her methodical, steady shaving, as he breathed slowly, his chest going up and down smoothly. It was getting hot inside the room, as she knew from the sweat going down his chest, and coming down from her own forehead, so the monkey pulled the curtains away for the fresh air to get inside. It was beginning to get dark outside, and the red sky showed it was likely to rain very soon.  _ I could get stranded here if it does _ , she thought quickly. That wasn't bad at all.

“I'm curious--” She started and he laughed, letting his breath out through his mouth. She cleaned the razor in a bowl of water at the vanity, while he searched for her leg behind him, feeling her up. She slapped his hand, but he didn't move it. Asriel looked up, smiling, deviously.

“You are tireless, Marisa.” She moved his head back in a position where she could continue her work. “ _ Fine _ . If you must know, I lost an alethiometer.”

She lowered the blade, away from his face; he looked away from her reflection in the mirror, ashamed, maybe, but she had never seen him ashamed so she couldn't be sure. The monkey and Stelmaria continued their quiet conversation, not minding them at all.

“You _ what _ ?” Marisa stuttered. “But-- how?”

He scratched his forehead, and she again moved his head in place, continuing her task. He had a frown once more.

“The Paris alethiometer. I was responsible for the agents overseeing its safety, given that alethiometer is under the work of Magisterium scholars.” He told her, and he grabbed her thigh tighter whenever she brought the razor to his neck. “The two morons I sent there lost it.”

“Lost it? You mean, it was stolen then?”

“Yes, Marisa, it was  _ stolen _ , right under their fucking noses! Do you need me to draw it for you?” He snapped and she dug her fingers in his skin where she was holding his head in place and he hissed and grabbed her thigh too. “Now I have a meeting in a couple of days with the fucking secretary general to explain what happened. She’s gonna fucking throw me to the wolves, I’m certain of it!”

“How bad is it?”

He sighed, a long and heavy sound.

“I offered to assist because I wanted to prove  _ La Maison Juste _ could take care of such delicate matters instead of the simpletons of the CCD. We can, it's obvious, but then those two imbeciles managed to ruin it.” He pressed the skin between his eyebrows, Marisa noticed his fingers shaking. She carefully put his hand away from his face as it was getting in her way. She took a glimpse outside as she smelled the damp earth scent of rain pouring, the room was almost cooler now. “I'll have them flayed!”

She didn't think he was being serious, but with the Holy Church and its associates one could never be sure of their savagery. She carefully finished his beard, leaving it cleanly shaven; Marisa knew he liked his beard and she thought it was hilarious how he would never shave for her, despite even her begging once, but he sure as hell would shave for his boss. To make a good impression, for better manipulating, to fit in in a place he clearly did not belong. She once had told him, in the middle of the night, after too many drinks, that he would have fared much better if he went against the Magisterium. He laughed and said that had been bold of her to say out loud, but he fucked her so roughly that night she knew she had clearly stirred something up. He knew she was right, but he preferred to ignore facts and instead, pushed himself to pretend he was the pious and devoted man he was absolutely not.

“You wouldn't happen to know of it, would you?” He asked, watching as she cleaned the razor and left it at the vanity.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “Where do you keep your medical supplies? I'll patch your hand up.”

“Last drawer. I mean the alethiometer, Marisa. Do you know of it?” She picked them up and kneeled beside him. Marisa looked up, an innocent glare on her face, as she heard that last part.

“I know it exists, yes.” She said, amused, unwrapping his hand; there was blood everywhere but it seemed to have stopped leaking.

“Marisa--” His warning tone was as enticing as it was funny to her.

“No, I know  _ nothing _ of it. I had no idea it had been stolen until you told me.” She said, as she cleaned his hand, and she made him hiss a little because his line of questioning was upsetting.

“I don't believe you.”

“Well, that's not my problem, is it?” She finished wrapping his hand on a clean bandage with a steady and tight move. He gasped, quietly, then pulled her towards himself, sitting her on his lap.

Asriel ran his hands all over her, messing her hair as he kissed her, thoroughly. When he pulled away, they were both breathless; she leaned against his shoulder.

“I need the alethiometer back, Marisa.”

“Well, good luck to you, but there is nothing I can do because I do not have it.” She looked up and kissed him again. She thought maybe he would shut up if they just kissed enough. He pulled away again, inspecting every inch of her face; she knew that look, it was the glance of an inquisitor, a fucking heretic hunter. She loathed it. “And as far as I'm concerned, neither does anyone I know.”

He stood quiet for a moment, and it was clear to her he didn't believe her, so she decided to use her last card. While she was telling the truth, she couldn't know for sure Oakley Street wasn't responsible for it, but she didn't want them to be in Asriel's interest again.

“Have you considered that maybe the CCD might be responsible for the theft?” She said, casually, running her finger on his cheek and over his lips, where he bit it slowly and made her chuckle. He rose his eyebrows, letting her finger go, and clearly surprised by what she said. “If they wanted to discourage your desire to take over their more academic duties, that could give them a motive.”

She sincerely doubted it, given the CCD was all about brute force, but all she needed was for Asriel to have doubts for a moment, enough to let Oakley Street off the hook. Given neither Marcel nor Hannah mentioned the alethiometer, Marisa was very close to suggest a normal theft, as the Alethiometer was valuable and apolitical, and worth a fortune anywhere with the slight academic knowledge or interest in gold. However, Asriel wouldn't buy that story, however likely it was, since he was looking for a fierce antagonist and a simple burglar was not that. Marisa had to be creative and her creativity, right now, decided to be a little sadist.

“Harming us would also harm the Magisterium.” Asriel said.

“Yet there has been internal feuds in the Holy Church since forever, so maybe they just did what was natural and screwed you over.” She said, in his ear, and he gripped at her hair as she bit his earlobe. “Besides, if they have the alethiometer, they have a reader, so the Magisterium still receives the boon of having the instrument, while you get whipped over a failure plotted by your own colleagues. You don't have a reader of your own, do you?”

“No, not yet.” He said, stoically, and she looked him in the eyes and smiled, genuinely caring.

“But _ they _ do. Imagine if they had two.” She said sweetly.

“You make a good case.” He said, at last, after a moment of silence, and while he sounded like he was still suspicious, she could see in his eyes how well the seed of discord had been planted and she almost felt proud of herself. “Nevermind this. I want you to stay.”

She took a look outside, pretending she was checking for the weather, as if she needed a reason to stay.

“Well, it is raining, so I suppose I have to, but can you handle things with your hand wounded like that?”

“If you take your own clothes off, I think I can manage, yes.”

He kissed her again and again, until the only thing left in his thoughts was her image and nothing else.


	6. destruction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is slightly smuttier than usual, but I don't think it's explicit enough to warrant a change of rating, but if it is let me know and I'll do so!  
Sorry I haven't updated this in a while, a lot of prompts but not a lot of energy, and what I have of energy I use to write WYL (and all of the sexy prompts for this come from that fic, so they need each other to exist lol)  
I'm not super happy with how this turned out, but at least I finished something! I hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Marisa felt his hands against her waist, warm, rough, cruel, as he grasped at her skin through the fabric of her blouse. That made her wish she hadn’t changed from her gala dress into something easier to remove. She knew he could get rid of that blouse quicker than she could blink her eyes and the only reason he hadn’t done that yet was because he enjoyed far too much the whole ritual of teasing her into expecting that to happen. He thrived off thwarted expectations, it was his sole desire and weakness.

She liked to think she was good at hiding her emotions, but somehow she felt like every inch of her face betrayed her as he ran his fingers up her torso, brushing slightly against her breasts and he reached for her shoulders and pushed her back against him.

Asriel slowly pulled her hair away from her neck, his warm mouth against her collarbone, his beard tickling against her skin. Marisa felt his arm wrap around her, as he stood behind her, his hand resting on her stomach, the other hand moving, slowly, to her neck. He held her, tight and in place, carefully tilting her head with his own to expose her neck better; he planted a kiss so teasingly light, barely touching her, that made her grit her teeth.

She felt his lips brushing against her ear then, whispering something in a low voice, but she didn’t understand quite well what his words had been. She was too busy grasping at the desk in front of her, one of her hands over his, on her neck, her fingers digging deep in his skin. He hissed, more of amusement than pain, and slid his hand away, back to her head, his fingers digging in her hair, gripping tight, but not too painfully.

“Must you be so cruel?” She whispered, a hint of a smile on her lips, as he kissed her collarbone again and again, his other hand going up her torso, his index finger playing in the space between the buttons of her blouse. “Just take the bloody shirt off. It’s getting warm in here.”

She knew she shouldn’t rush him; when he was in that teasing mood, rushing him only meant he would go even slower. It was horrible and delicious at the same time, her restlessness making her fidget in her spot, her fingers curling in expectation, her nails softly scratching the desk in front of her; her ankles softly brushing against each other as she felt the need to move to keep herself from begging to be fucked. Marisa didn’t like to beg, because he took too much pleasure out of that, as well as he didn’t appease her by taking her request. In fact, asking for it just made him torture her even more.

This time, however, he heeded her words, unbuttoning her shirt systematically, then dropping it on the desk. She felt his hand cupping one of her breasts, as he used his thumb to faintly stroke her other nipple. She let out a deep sigh, too audible, and he allowed himself to laugh, a throaty sound against the nape of her neck. He pressed his body onto hers, his cock hard against her, as he bit her earlobe.

“Get on your knees.” He told her, confident, demanding, imposing; he liked to act that way because it felt like she didn’t allow him to do that in their relationship, most of the time. She too liked the control and it suited her much better, but sometimes she indulged him, like that night. They hadn’t seen each other in a year, roughly, so she expected him to be hungrier and more demanding than usual and she decided to play along.

“You just love saying that, don’t you?” She mocked, turning to face him, and she leaned in to kiss him, but he grabbed her hair and pulled her away, playfully.

“You love hearing it.”

His hand softened the grip on her hair as she kneeled in front of him, her lips brushing against the fabric of his pants. He laughed when she looked up, her lips parted, almost pleading. He unfastened his belt, then his pants and she pulled his cock and took him in her mouth, listening to his low groan with delight.

She glanced at him, and he was watching her, as he began to undo his tie and his cufflinks, then proceeded to unbutton his shirt. He dug his fingers in her hair, helping her find a rhythm he liked, which was slow and steady. Sometimes Marisa hated that attitude of his, looking down on her, a smirk on his lips, as if he didn’t quite enjoy the act in itself, but the fact that he assumed he was belittling her while doing it. Before him, she never considered that, but Asriel had a way of twisting her perception, even if indirectly.

He grabbed her by the neck, his fingers intertwining with her thick hair, and pulled her up, gentle enough not to harm her, but still quite briskly. He bit her lower lip, strongly, and she hissed, smacking his shoulder, but he didn’t stop. So, she held his neck and forced herself closer, kissing him. Asriel picked her up and pressed her against the desk, sitting her on it.

“Must you hurt me, every damn time?” She hissed, and he laughed, his face buried on her neck. “You’re incorrigible, Asriel. I’m seeing Marcel in the morning, he’ll see the marks.”

“Please, he doesn’t have the shrewdness to understand what the marks mean. He’ll barely notice them.” He raised her skirt slowly, his finger poking her underwear aside. Marisa uses her leg to pull him closer. “Quite a prude.”

“You need to stop harassing him. You’re stressing him out.” She gasped into his mouth as he slid one finger inside her, then another, in slow movements. “And I’m the one having to deal with him later. It’s no… no good.”

“Ah, is that what he tells you, then? That I’m _ harassing _ him?” Asriel laughed when she offered him a confused frown.

Marisa had no doubt he was baiting her into an argument, messing with her head; with Asriel she was never sure of anything. She clung harder to the desk when he put more devotion to the movements of his fingers. Leaning back, the top of her head touching the wall behind her, her body flexed uncomfortably yet her legs lingered from the desk in a relaxed manner.

That was when she heard the knock on the door. Or at least she thought that was the case, but she simply couldn’t have heard it before when they were whispering to each other, so she assumed it had just happened. Asriel groaned, irritated and frustrated, his cock throbbing as she rushed him to dress up. She quickly and messily buttoned up her shirt, as she made her way, followed by her monkey who climbed to her shoulder, to the door.

“Miss van Zee, are you there?” Bud Schlesinger’s voice came through the door, worried.

“Yes, Bud. What is it?” She said, her hand on the door handle, but if she could get rid of her shadow without showing him Asriel, she would have preferred that way.

Marisa could feel as he leaned against the door to whisper. Marisa glanced at Asriel, but he seemed confused about Schlesinger’s presence as well.

“It’s Marcel. They bombed Oakley Street’s office, and he got caught in the middle of it!”

There was a cold feeling going down her spine now, while she pressed her lips tightly to conceal the anxious thoughts around her mind. She opened the door slowly, only to find Schlesinger’s figure, panting as he seemed to have rushed there from wherever he came from. Marisa’s first instinct was to face Asriel, who was finishing fastening his belt, but she resisted it for a while longer.

“Is he--?” Marisa began, but Schlesinger shook his head, taking a deep breath. His owl opened her wings, restless.

“No, he’s alive, but he is on his way to the hospital. He’s in bad shape, Miss van Zee. I came as soon as I could to warn you.” His eyes went over Asriel, but he barely minded the man’s presence or if he did, Schlesinger didn’t show at all. “Other people got hurt too, but no one died.”

“Did you do this?” Marisa turned to Asriel abruptly.

He finished dealing with his belt, then dropped his arms and looked at her, genuinely confused. He blinked, twice, and shook his head. Stelmaria observed their conversation with keen eyes.

“Of course not.” He put his hand on his pocket, and hung his jacket over his shoulder. There was a slight crease of wariness between his eyebrows. Marisa felt strange; he seemed to be telling the truth. “I wouldn’t be that scandalous about it.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Marisa spat but he shook his head.

“I’m not lying. Oakley Street’s headquarters is more valuable if kept intact, as it houses several documents that I would love to get a hold of. We wouldn’t bomb it, it’s not my style. My guess would be CCD.” He raised his eyebrows, then approached her, causing Schlesinger to straighten his posture as Asriel neared him too and he nodded at the mention of the Consistorial Court. “Besides, Marcel is a good sport. I wouldn’t bomb him anymore than I would you, darling.”

Asriel slid his hand over her neck and gripped the back of her head and kissed her, slowly, passionately, almost deviously tender. He pulled apart, his fingers gripping at her chin as he whispered close enough that their lips touched.

“You seem to have a family issue to resolve. I hope we can conclude our unfinished business at a later time.” He brushed his thumb against her lower lip before walking out.

Marisa watched as Asriel crossed the doorway, very close to Schlesinger, who had a straight posture against the wall, his eyes never leaving Asriel much like a prey would do with a predator, as the man strolled by and stopped, then. He put his left hand on Bud’s right shoulder, in a friendly manner but his eyes were dark and glistening with a menacing aura about them. Marisa recognised that look and her monkey bared his teeth, agitated. It meant trouble.

“I trust you to be discreet about our encounter tonight, Mr. Schlesinger.” Asriel grinned, viciously so, and Stelmaria’s tail swung as she observed the men with a lazy interest. “Not a word.”

“Sure thing.” Bud nodded, friendly in his cautious attitude, a wary smirk on his usually good-humoured face. Marisa watched the exchange with a very methodical interest.

Asriel patted the man’s shoulder, and leaned in just enough to say something audible for all of them, his warm and Tokay-scented breath reaching Schlesigner’s nostrils.

“Good boy.”

Then he turned on his heels, and walked away.


End file.
